Gallagher Girls- Short stories
by MMC gang
Summary: I'm writing some short stories based on the Gallagher Girls series written by Ally Carter. They aren't in chronological order and won't include anything that changes the plot line but MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS. Please read and review! -MMC Gang :)xx
1. Zach meets Cammie

I pushed the button and turned towards her; the famous Cameron Morgan. "Hey," I said, acknowledging her with a head nod. I watched sadness, longing and then a small smile appear on her face and I'm not gonna lie, that pissed me off a little. I thought she'd surely be over the guy now, but evidently not. Deep down though, I knew what really irked me was the way my stomach reacted to her smile.

"Hi," she replied, bashing the button with her index finger, as if it would make the elevator appear faster. It was either a coincidence, or she was talented in ways I didn't know about, but the elevator appeared right on cue. I let her step inside, and followed, much to her disdain. I rested against the railing and watched her size me up, no doubt comparing me to the stupid (literally, I mean who crashes a forklift through a building just to talk to his ex-girlfriend. I mean, really?) civilian she still wasn't over. To help me ignored the pang that came with that thought, I initiated conversation.

"So," I said pointing to the crest on her coat. "The Guggenheim Academy…"

"Gallagher Academy," she corrected.

"I've never heard of it," I lied.

"Well it's my school," she retorted. The higher the elevator climbed, the more she fidgeted.

"You in a hurry or something," I asked, barely managing to suppress my laughter.

"Actually, I'm supposed to meet my teacher at the ruby slipper exhibit. I've only got twenty minutes, and if I'm late, he'll kill me."

I refrained from explaining exactly how qualified he was to do that and instead asked, "How do you know?"

"Because he said, 'Meet me at the ruby slipper exhibit.'"

"No," I said smiling and shaking my head. "How do you know you only have twenty minutes? You're not wearing a watch."

"My friend just told me," she lied convincingly. I'd believe her if I didn't know better.

"You fidget a lot."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I have low blood sugar. I need to eat something."

I fished my bag of M&Ms out of my pocket, unsure if she was lying. "Here," I offered her what was left of the bag. "I ate most of them already."

"Oh…um…" she stammered, clearly knocked for a loop. "That's okay. Thanks, though."

"Oh," I said. So she was lying. "Okay." The elevator doors slid open, revealing the Mall that was painted with dusk.

"Thanks again for the candy," she said, darting outside. With a stealthy smile, I followed her a few paces. Upon hearing my footsteps, she whirled around. "Where are you going?" she demanded to know.

"I thought we were going to meet your teacher in the wonderful world of Oz."

"We!" Cammie exclaimed, on the verge of slightly hysterical laughter.

"Sure," I shrugged nonchalantly, "I'm going with you."

"No you're not," she snapped, her aura of shyness fading with the sun.

"Look," I started confidently. "It's dark. You're by yourself. And this is D.C." I watched her weigh up her options in her head. "And you've only got" – I pretended to ponder it—"fifteen minutes to meet your teacher." I knew I was off by 90 seconds and so did she.

"Fine," she relented and quickened her pace.

"You can walk really fast," I said. She ignored me and I couldn't help but observe how cute she was when she was giving me the silent treatment. While her friend, who I had no doubt Grant was successfully tailing, was model gorgeous, Cammie was a plain type of pretty, and her attitude and demeanour contributed to her girl next door image. And the fact that she was a spy just made her that much more attractive.

"So, do you have a name?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"Sure. Lots of them." This was the only thing she'd said that I didn't doubt was true. I threw a flirty smile her way. She bristled, turned, and continued towards her destination.

"Do you have a boyfriend," I asked, perhaps the only question actually wanted to hear her answer.

"Look, thanks for the chivalry and all, but it really isn't necessary," Cammie muttered, ignoring my flirting. "It's just up here," she said pointing to the Museum of American History, which stood gleaming twenty yards away. "And there's a cop over there."

"What?" I said, slightly offended, "you think that guy can do a better job protecting you than I can?"

"No, I think if you don't leave me alone, I can scream and that cop will arrest you." She smirked shyly at me, under lashes that were a little too long for the good of my sanity. I backed away and smile. Cammie smiled too, and for a moment, I felt like my mission was already accomplished.

"Hey," she spoke to my retreating back. I turned as she said, "Thanks anyway." I nodded and continued to walk away, marvelling that she hadn't figured out why I was here. I let myself think that maybe I distracted her as much as she distracted me. I raced along the quickest route to the ruby slipper display, refusing to think about the annoying habit she had of stirring up feelings in me.

I reached the right floor and stood near the entrance, not wanting to make my presence known yet. I heard footsteps, and watched her approach the display from around the corner, mesmerised by the simple contents of the shiny glass case.

I saw Joe appear and say, "You're four seconds late."

She spun around, and proudly said, "But I'm alone."

"No, Ms. Morgan. You're not," Joe said. That was my cue. I stepped out of the shadows and smiled.

"Hi again, Gallagher Girl."

I took extreme pleasure in the shocked look on her face.

"Nice work, Zach," Mr Solomon said. I met Cammie's eyes and winked at her. Her face contorted with disappointment and disgust, only to be dismissed by a sudden smirk and gleam in her eye.

"Hi, Blackthorne Boy."

I saw Joe blink, I felt my own mouth fall open, and I saw her smirk break into a grin. She wasn't exactly meant to know where I was from.

"Very good, Ms. Morgan," Joe said, recovering. She met my eyes once again, and her face went a similar colour to the shoes behind her. "But not good enough."

I watched as she recalled all the instances she saw me today, and put the pieces together. "Your mission was…what?" Cammie started in an even voice, "to keep us from achieving our mission?"

I cocked my head and raised my eyebrows. "Something like that." I smirked and exhaled a half laugh. "I thought I could make you late for your meeting. I didn't think you'd actually tell me where it was and walk me halfway there." She looked like she was going to be sick, and this gave me equal parts glee and guilt. A crowd of tourists passed the exhibit, and I saw her get swallowed up by the crowd. I took the opportunity to leave. Tomorrow I would be officially introduced to the famous Cammie Morgan, and I, for one, couldn't wait. The girl was brilliant, that much was clear, and she intrigued me. I wanted to know everything about her, who her friends were, her role-models, where she went when she was upset, her favourite food and so much more. So much more.


	2. Matthew's Crush

"Mom," Matthew whined, clearly embarrassed at the topic of conversation.

"Sit," I said, pointing at the bed in the centre of the room. Whinging, he complied. "Now what is her name," I demanded to know. My question was met with silence, and the mysterious smirk he'd so inherited from his father. I knew they hadn't taught him interrogation tactics yet, but this kid was still seriously hard to crack… without actually using force. Because I could totally crack him if I used force, but he was my son so that kinda ruled that out. "Her name?" I repeated. His resolve remained steely so I decided to bring out the big guns. Not literal guns, although I was totally tempted. "I'll tell everyone about the time you threw up on the director of the CIA; in front of the whole organisation."

"No!' he yelled. "I mean," he stuttered.

"Go on," I said, raising an eyebrow and smiling gleefully. Matthew coughed and mumbled a few words that ended with "Suzie", coincidently the name of Bex's extremely gorgeous 15 year old daughter.

"I knew it," I yelled as I pulled him up and danced around the room with him. He blushed and we laughed, spinning ourselves back onto the bed.

"You're so immature Mom," Matthew teased.

"You love it," I smiled back at my son who was growing up way too fast. I observed his tall and lanky frame, how his longer hair framed his striking face, those piercing eyes that were neither blue nor green.

"How did you know," the spy in my son asked, "I was careful, I altered my patterns, used practically every trick in the book!"

I pointed to myself and said, "Spy".

"Besides," I elaborated, "I had a similar adventure of my own when I was your age. I know the signs when I see them."

"Really?" he asked. "But you and Dad were so young when you met each other, I just…you know, presumed."

"It was the semester before I met your Dad." Matthew nodded, his curious green eyes signalling for me to continue. "I was in town for a CoveOps exercise and I was, **am**, practically invisible, no one ever notices me when I don't want them too. This boy saw me, his name was Josh, and he was sweet and I was flattered and I fell in love. I snuck out of the school practically every weekend for a semester."

"He was a civilian!"

"Yeah. He was. It didn't end well," I shrugged, "well, it depends if you call him crashing my CoveOps exam, literally, with a forklift, an unhappy ending."

"No way!" Matthew exclaimed, his eyes wide, his cheeky grin returning.

"Way," I said. "And the moral of that story is don't date civilians kiddo."

"Don't plan to. I'm not that stupid," he retorted. I stood and walked to my dresser, feeling his gaze follow my movements. I opened the second draw and dug around in the back left corner, finding exactly what I wanted.

I retraced my steps to the bed. "Here," I said handing him a black jewellery box. I watched his face crumple with confusion.

"These are….earrings?" he said, baffled.

I sat on the bed next to him. "Josh gave them to me," I sighed referring to the most delicate pair of silver earrings I'd ever seen. "I want you to give them to your first love, whether that is Suzie or not." I stood and walked towards the door, leaving him in thought.

"Mom?" Matthew called.

"Yes," I said turning around.

"Don't tell anyone please?"

"Relax kiddo, I won't tell your sister."

"I wasn't talking about Joesephine Mom. I was talking about Bex."

"Oh I have no doubt she already knows," I sang with a grin as I left the room.

Subscribe and Review please!

-MMC Gang :)xx


	3. Baxter, Rebecca Baxter

I turned in a circle and felt the soft wind play with my hair. "The biggest threat is the long range perimeter," I said into my comms.

Subtly, I scanned the rooftops in that area, knowing my target's biggest threat came from snipers. "North 27° West."

"Light wind, a clear view, great exits," Liz said. That was all the confirmation I needed. I broke into a sprint, racing through the ever crowded Trafalgar Square, crushing people and mumbling apologies as I ran. "Liz, get him off the stage. Now!"

"Working on it," she said cooly, "I'll give them enough to shut down the White House."

"Liz, the White House is in…"

"Precisely," she interrupted.

"I hope you're joking," I skidded to a stop and glanced upwards, orientating myself.

"Mostly," Liz said as I set my sights on the building, noting the flash of sunlight reflected off the objective lens, a sign that our sharp shooter was packing up. The building in my sights, I sped down the quaint cobblestoned streets; three lefts, then a right. I pulled my gun from the waistband of my jeans as I rounded the last corner. "Don't move," I demanded. The young man dressed in black, politely rested his hands behind his head and turned. I nearly dropped my gun.

"Hey Bex."

"Grant?" I said hesitantly. "I haven't seen you since."

"Alaska," we said in unison.

"How ya been?" He asked cheekily. I rolled my eyes and strode towards him. "I should take you back to HQ."

"You can take me anywhere," he said with a wink. I couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of my throat and thrust my hand into his pockets, searching. I ignored the way his abs tensed when he let out that deep laugh of his. I retrieved a pair of comms from his pocket. Triumphantly, I held them up. "Such an amateur mistake darling," I taunted.

With a shrug and a smirk he said, "I figured my captor was pretty harmless."

Daringly, I loaded my gun and raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" I said and fired. Gulping, Grant raised those distractingly delicious chocolate brown eyes from his severed shoe lace and they met mine. "Not bad for a girl," he exhaled, hands still behind his neck as I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Jonas," I said into Grant's comms, "I know exactly where you are." I waved towards the rooftop internet café, across the street and down half a block. "Come down here, or some bad things will happen to you friend here."

"I like the sound of that," Grant growled in my ear. I ignored the shiver that tickled my spine, sending my senses into overdrive.

"I didn't say you could move." He shrugged.

"We need him alive Grant," I said, refocusing on the matter at hand.

"Well he is still alive is he not?" Grant pointed out sarcastically.

"Who ordered the hit," I said poking his impossibly hard chest. He beckoned me close with a bent finger, and whispered in my ear, "Client confidentiality."

I glared at him, daring him to ignore me.

"One of the good guys," Grant relented. "If you can take him in alive, I won't complete the mission."

"Thanks," I said sincerely.

"We're not all bad Bex."

"I know," I replied, lifting my gaze from my shadow and meeting his annoyingly magnetic eyes.

"Oopsy Daisies."

Down the end of the alley, lay a sprawled and scraped Liz, who it appeared, had tripped over a cobblestone getting out of the oddly misplaced stretch limo. Sighing, I reprimanded her, "Did I say you could come down yet?"

"Well, no. But you have the situation under control, and they won't hurt us," she said, peeling herself off the street.

"You don't know that Liz," I said softly. "Don't ever do that again ok?"

Liz nodded ending the conversation.

"So did you come up with an extraction plan?" I asked her.

"Yep. His new security detail is set to pick him up from the Charing Cross Hotel in 7minutes, and take him to dinner."

"And?" I prompted.

"His new security detail looks a bit like you two. Ok, exactly like you two," Liz revealed giddily.

"I'm driving," Jonas stated, entering the alley and pointing at the luxury car.

"Jonas!" Liz exclaimed, striding towards him and consequently tripping over herself and landing in his arms. "I mean…Hi" she said.

"Hi."

An awkward silence descended over us, like the sun. I cleared my throat, and Liz begrudgingly removed herself from Jonas' embrace.

"Lets go," Grant commanded, throwing Jonas the keys.

"Hey!" I said, patting my pockets. Grant just winked at me as he climbed into the backseat of the limousine. Grumbling I followed.

Minutes later, we pulled up in front of the hotel. Exchanging a small smile, Grant and I climbed out of the car and entered the lobby. "We're here for Minister Gray Powell," I spoke in my native accent.

"Here he is now," the receptionist said, gesturing to the stairs.

"Brilliant," I replied.

"Thanks," Grant told her, imitating my accent.

"Four out of ten," I whispered as we waited for the Minister to approach us.

"You're late," Gray snapped.

"Sorry Sir," I said, taking his arm and leading him towards the car.

"It won't happen again," Grant smiled a knowing twinkle in his eye. We exited the lobby, and clambered into the car. I heard Liz locked the door, smiled, and reclined, meeting Grant's gaze in the reflective glass, separating us from the driver's compartment.

"Where are we going for dinner," Gray demanded to know.

"How does MI6 HQ sound?" I said with a grin.

"So he was funding offshore terrorist campaigns on London?"

"Yep," I replied grimly. "Good thing I didn't let you shoot him. We needed that intel."

"Are you going to let me do this?" he questioned mischievously, disregarding my jab and leaning in. And surprisingly, I did. Our lips hugged, our tongues danced. "I missed you," he breathed into my mouth. I continued kissing him, content on being in his arms and knowing there was one less bad guy out there tonight.


	4. Just so you know

"Well this is a challenge," I sarcastically laughed at Bex, who'd chosen the instrument. I wiggled the splintered chopsticks back and forth finding the exact angles needed to manipulate the lock. I heard the satisfying "pop" of the lock and grinned.

"3.4 seconds," Liz giggled, telling me what I'd already calculated, "I think that's a record." I hushed them and leaving them with a coy smile, crept into the ever silent library and temporary home of two of the best agents in the world, gravitating towards the lone light. The boy with the dark hair touched his fingers to the ledge of the fireplace, a seemingly innocent gesture. I knew better.

"Hello Blackthorne Boy," I said, stepping out of the shadows. His body stiffened for a millisecond, blink and you'd have missed it, and then turned. With a grin and a nod, he acknowledged my presence.

"Hi Gallagher Girl." I ignored the not-so-subtle beating of my heart and met his eyes, watching him watch trail my fingers across the shelves. The book's spines passing beneath my fingers, I watched his pupils dilate ever so slightly and paused.

"Advanced Encryption and You Zach? I thought we covered that sophomore year."

"I don't know if you recall, but I was a little distracted," Zach smirked at me. Ignoring the blush that I didn't doubt had appeared, I pulled the book from the shelf and opened it, finding exactly what I expected to.

I raised a single eyebrow and asked, "Did we not agree not to spy on them?"

"Why are **you** here Gallagher Girl," he inquired, pushing himself away from the ledge, striding towards me. I swallowed as he trapped me against the bookshelf. With an innocent smile and lowered lashes I said, "I just always seem to be in the wrong places at the wrong time."

With an "Oh really" that sounded more like "Pft, yeah right" he brushed a lock of hair off my face and leaned in, only to be interrupted by footsteps that could only mean one thing. They were back early.

His cool hand gripped mine as we sped around the shelf, returning to the shadows, the only place I felt comfortable these days, just as she descended the steps, him following close behind. Through the shelves, we watched her plunk herself on the over-stuffed chair, shut her eyes, and smile, evidently enjoying being reunited with her favourite chair after a long day. Seconds passed before her grin left her face, replaced by a suspicious shadow. My heart literally stopped and Zach's grip on my hand tightened. My Aunt's eyes flickered open and observed the posture of the irritating man she'd come to love. "What," she demanded, addressing the elephant in the room (not without reminiscing about the unfortunate elephant she had to escort out of the Louvre with only a pony-tail holder and lint roller two summers ago). As the subject's dreamy, yet defeated, blue eyes met my Aunt's, I glanced at Zach's stony face and placed a reassuring and small hand on his arm. A sigh so heavy that I feared it might actually break the only part of the Gallagher Academy still wholly standing, fell from the Subject's lips and he voiced his greatest fear. "I don't know what to do Abby, about the boy," he stammered, "my son." With an understanding nod from the prettiest girl in the room (and the only one to his knowledge), he continued. "I didn't know. Surely he knows that? I'd have found him I swear it. I'd never be the man my father was."

I'd only seen my Aunt Abby react quicker once, on that chilly and fateful night in DC. She was at his side in a fraction of a second. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're a brilliant agent Townsend," Abby started, noting the cocky gleam in her boyfriend's eyes, "but even you couldn't fake the surprise that was written across your face when she told everyone. He knows Edward."

I met Zach eyes and wanted to kiss the sadness and longing right of his face. He turned his head and smiled at the ground, and I ignored the single tear that deepened the colour of the carpet in front of his feet.

"He knows," my Aunt reiterated as a whisper as she wrapper her arm around Agent Townsend's middle and rested her head on his shoulder. A silence covered the room like my favourite blanket at my Grandparent's ranch in Nebraska; soft, warm, and comfortable.

"At least he has Cammie," Aunty Abby offered.

"Yeah," Townsend agreed, "he's lucky to have a Gallagher Girl; he's lucky to have her."

"Oh so you like Gallagher Girls now do you?" my Aunt teased.

"Just some," he replied smiling mischievously at her. "I just wish **I** could catch one." A familiar gleam danced in his eyes as realisation hit my Aunt and she raced up the stairs. Laughing, he followed her, his hands ready to torture her with tickles. They disappeared from sight, and when the shrieking began, we stole out of the room and wordlessly navigated to Zach's room.

I stood at the door as he entered and began to wash his face, silently noting the similarities between him and his father; their arrogance, their posture, their grins, their ability to switch demeanours so easily and readily. Emotionally exhausted, I plonked myself on his bed, took off my shoes and lay down, noting the way my now longer hair spread around my head like a halo. I close my eyes and hummed a song I'd once heard in Roseville as I weaved my fingers into my hair, willing the palpable tension that dominated the room to ease.

After a few moments, I felt the bed dip as he eased himself onto it. "So, plant any good bugs lately?" I cheekily asked, repeating the exact words he'd spoken to me two and a half years ago on a side street in Roseville. My weary eyes fluttered open and were met with his dark green ones, directly above mine and despite all my training, I giggled. "Just so you know Gallagher Girl," he whispered softly, "I'm going to kiss you now."


End file.
